Regency Secrets: My Lady's Trust. Julia Justiss

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СКАЧАТЬ idle compliments. Indeed, have I not witnessed your skill for myself? I’m breeding, you see,” she informed the others, “and have been most horridly ill. Mrs. Martin prescribed a tea that has eased the discomfort.”

      The neighborhood ladies all nodded. “‘Tis a rare blessing she is to the whole county, just like her dear aunt, Mrs. Hastings,” the knight’s wife said. “Especially since one never knows whether or not Dr. Winthrop will be … available.”

      “All the more rare to find such skill in a lady of gentle birth,” Lady Elspeth continued. “How comforting it is to be able to discuss intimate matters with an equal.” She cast a glance toward Lady Ardith as she emphasized the word.

      As if pricked by the remark, that lady looked back toward the company, her disdainful gaze coming to rest on Laura. It seemed she would speak, but apparently deciding that without a masculine audience to exploit she’d not bother, she turned back once again to the window.

      “With me feeling so peevish, Mrs. Martin has kindly stepped in to take my daughter for her walks,” Lady Elspeth continued. “What a champion you have there, Mrs. Martin! Catherine can scarcely be contained until it is time for her outing, and comes back chattering of the clever things you’ve shown or said or read to her.”

      “Ah, children,” said Lady Ardith from her window. “Charming creatures! So inexperienced, they possess no discrimination whatsoever.”

      “The intelligent ones do, from quite an early age,” Lady Elspeth replied. “A shame you’ve apparently never encountered the like among your own family and friends.”

      Lady Ardith pivoted to face Lord Beaulieu’s sister, a martial light sparking in her cold blue eyes. Fortunately for Laura’s peace of mind, at that moment the parlor door opened. In a rush of conversation flavored with the lingering odor of cigar, the gentlemen entered.

      With a smile as glittering as her gown, Lady Ardith at once made for Lord Beaulieu. “Ah, my lord, thank you for joining us so speedily!” she cried, latching onto his arm. “Deprived of your company, we women are such dull creatures. Babies and potions … I declare—” she swept a dagger glance at Lady Elspeth “—Squire Everett’s winter garden is more interesting than the conversation we summon up.”

      Dr. MacDonovan halted beside them. Was it Laura’s imagination, or did a subtle glance pass between the two men? “Ah, lass, I canna believe the lips of such an exquisite creature could pass on anything less than … delicious. Come,” he urged, taking the hand the lady had pressed on Lord Beaulieu’s arm, “let us find some wine. Then ye must speak to me and prove the yea or nay of it.”

      It appeared that the lady might refuse, until the doctor leaned closer and murmured something that brought a satisfied smile to her face even as she laughed and batted his arm. “La, but you’re wicked,” she reproved, allowing Dr. MacDonovan to lead her to the sideboard.

      Before Laura could look away, Lord Beaulieu’s gaze met hers. He rolled his eyes briefly, a gesture so indicative of relief she almost laughed out loud. Then he smiled again, a slight curve of lip and fire of glance that once again ignited every nerve and set the champagne bubbles dancing through her veins. His eyes holding hers, she sensed more than saw him approach.

      “Thank you, brother, for the rescue,” Lady Elspeth murmured. “I was in dire danger of becoming … unladylike.”

      Lord Beaulieu bent to kiss his sister’s cheek. “That, I could never believe,” he said with a grin.

      With Lord Beaulieu a mere forearm’s length away, Laura could feel the heat emanating from his body, catch the faint scent of shaving soap and brandy. Almost, she could feel his hand once more resting on her shoulder, those lips dipping to brush her cheek. A shiver swept over her skin.

      He turned to her, his grin fading as his imperious eyes found and commanded hers. Scraps of conversation, the popping of the fire, the clink of glasses faded, until she heard only the rapid beat of her pulse. While they both remained motionless, staring, she forgot even to breathe.

      “Mrs. Martin,” he said at last. “How very beautiful you look tonight.”

      “Th-thank you, my lord.”

      “I had hoped we might—”

      “Excuse me, my lord,” Squire Everett’s hearty voice startled her. “The card tables are set, and Lady Ardith is demanding we choose partners now and begin play.”

      “Play,” the earl repeated, and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Yes, of course. If you’ll excuse me, ladies.” He made them a quick bow.

      Almost dizzy with happiness, Laura watched him walk away. He thought her beautiful. As she’d dreamed all evening, he’d come to her, stood by her, gifted her with that special smile that transported her to a magical realm where nothing existed but the two of them alone.

      Better to leave now, before anything occurred to mar the perfection of an evening she would recall with wonder the rest of her days. Cinderella, mirrored in the eyes of her prince as “beautiful.”

      In a daze, she murmured thanks to Lady Winters and Lady Elspeth and floated toward the door.

      Before she reached it, Lord Beaulieu called out, “No, Mrs. Martin, we cannot have you departing so early! Squire Everett needs a fourth at his table.”

      “Aye, madam, ye’ve had evenings enough of sick lads and laudanum,” Dr. MacDonovan said. “Having kept vigil late these past days, ye canna be weary yet.” “You must stay, Mrs. Martin,” Squire Everett said. “My sister declares she will not play unless you join us.”

      Desperately as she wished to break free, to tuck away this fragile gem of an evening in a protective tissue wrap of memory so she might preserve it forever, once again civility dictated she remain.

      And so she let the squire lead her to the table, knowing in truth that the reticent Lady Winters, an indifferent card player, would be wretchedly uncomfortable unless matched with a forgiving partner.

      And besides, depending on where Lady Ardith maneuvered Lord Beaulieu, she might be able to observe the earl a bit longer, add a few more gilded treasures to the trove that must warm her through the long lonely days after he departed. As soon he must.

      A surprisingly bitter regret spiraled through her. Damping it down, she took her place.

      Laura gamely played through several rubbers, though her modest skill was not sufficient to outweigh some of Lady Winters’s disastrous discards. Their team ended by being solidly trounced, much to the delight of the squire and his partner Sir Ramsdale.

      Naturally, Lady Ardith had snared the earl and Dr. MacDonovan for her table, with Lady Elspeth making up the fourth. The beauty seated the gentlemen—deliberately?—so that Laura could view only the back of his lordship’s head, but from the frequency of Dr. MacDonovan’s hearty laugh and the coos and squeals emanating from Lady Ardith, Laura surmised their table was enjoying a rousing good game.

      The other tables were finishing up. Repressing the desire to linger, Laura turned to the squire.

      “Thank you and Lady Winters both for such a delightful evening. I must go check on our patient now.”

      “Nonsense,” Lord Beaulieu said, surprising her by appearing behind her chair. “Kit’s valet СКАЧАТЬ